Paperwork abounds,
Strangling the top of my desk,
Like a great, white,
Ever groping Octopus.
Interruptions, by many;
Excuse me, it's the phone.
Oh, I'm sorry to tell you
But Mary had to go home.
It's your wife that's calling,
Are you leaving town today?
Tomorrow we have to budget.
Oh my God, let's runaway.

May I touch your hand, to remember,
How our love, has endured?
Can I hug and hold you,
Until I am, re-assured,
That you won't suddenly leave,
When I am not fully cured?

These days of ours, are so uncertain,
I pray there won't be a final curtain.
Why is that, you may ask, today?
It's because I'm not ready, to go away.

The serenity of our life, is still
That time, that is so tranquil.
Must we succumb, to those, gone before,
That left this life, through open door?
I know not what words to say,
Then to praise God, on this day.